#26 Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
“Please, Derek, please, I–“ Stiles chokes back the beginnings of tears and clutches harder at the sleeve of Derek’s jacket. He’s on his knees, having tripped in his scramble to get to Derek from the other side of the loft. “I love you, okay? And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’ve been a coward about this whole thing, but I love you. And I know you love me too. I know you do, and I need you not to leave like this, fuck, Derek, please don’t do this.”
Derek stares down at him for a long time, heart clenched in his throat.
And then he looks up at where the other Stiles is pursing his lips in a hard frown as he watches the scene.
“It isn’t real?” Derek asks for the hundredth time since the other Stiles, the real Stiles, showed up in this apparent dreamscape.
Stiles shakes his head stiffly.
The Stiles on the floor is still pleading with him around tears, but the noises of his despair are starting to fade, as if Derek were now hearing him from a distance. Even his heartbeat, a sound that Derek has been clinging to as an anchor for what feels like forever, begins to disappear.
Derek swallows and steels himself against feeling anything more than determination to get through this newest mess.
“What now?” he asks, tone clinical and firm.
Stiles answers him in a similar tone, his expression betraying nothing about what’s going on in his own head. A far cry from the Stiles that Derek first met a couple years ago, terrified and mouthy and young. “Now you wake up.”
how do people just stop shipping larry ? im genuinely curious like how do you stop feeling so overwhelmed over them ? how do you stop looking at them fondly ? how do you just forget everything and move on ? honestly i can think about stuff that happened years ago and still be like, “wow they really … did that …”, i still cry over larry moment videos and songs related to them ??? still the one, home, i want to break free, etc. = automatically sobbing, the tattoos still fuck me up !!! these two have a part of my soul forever man im never going anywhere.
hello i was really inspired by elsewhere university so i wrote what could be considered a first person account of a freshman? i hope you like it!!!
You apply to college because you know you’re supposed to. You’re not sure if you’re ready for it, though. In the past, your grades have fluctuated because you have executive dysfunction and also you never learned how to study. Smart kid problems, your dad always said.
You only apply to one college. If you don’t get in, you’re going to take a year off from school. You don’t really know what you’ll do, but you’ll figure it out. You apply to one of the most prestigious schools in the world: Elsewhere University.
Elsewhere University is a lot like any other university, from what you understand. You did your research. There’s weird rules, and there’s a whole blog dedicated to the culture surrounding that particular school. There’s something in each post that makes you think that there’s something the authors aren’t saying, but you never get a response when you ask in the comments or by emailing. One woman replied, but all she said was, “Be careful, but it’s a good school. I highly recommend it.”
You tried to find pass/fail rates of the school, but you can’t find anything. Apparently nobody fails out of Elsewhere university, only drops out or disappears. In fact, there’s a strangely high amount of disappearances from Elsewhere University that nobody seems to be making a fuss about. You almost regret applying when you learn about that.
Your best friend’s sister’s girlfriend graduated from Elsewhere U, so you ask your best friend to put you in contact with her. She does. Her sister’s girlfriend gives you a load of advice, and also highly recommends the school. She tells you that it’s an actual fact that nobody fails out of Elsewhere University, but that lots drop out or vanish. She says “vanish” a little wistfully, and you remember that time about five years ago when she’d vanished for a week, but then showed back up weirdly wiser and cleverer. You don’t ask about it.
Her advice consists of weird superstitions that she swears by: keep a bit of iron tucked away, carry some salt with you, and to carry candy and sweets with you. She doesn’t explain why, but you pack an old horseshoe, a container of salt, and your entire stash of candy.
She also gives you a list of rules.
Don’t eat anything they give you.
Be polite to them.
Don’t break any promises to them.
Be careful making deals with them.
Don’t say “I’m sorry,” say “Pardon me.” Also, don’t say “Thank you,” say “I appreciate it”
Be nice to plants and animals.
Feed the crows.
You have no idea what any of that means, but you know that you will soon. You thank her for her advice. It’s an easy job to type up the list of rules she gave you and turn it into your new background. You have trouble with social stuff, so having a list of rules is a godsend.
Your grandpa takes you down to your school. You don’t really know where it is, but his GPS knows where to go apparently. You have no idea how long the ride is. It feels like forever, and you start to worry about your fish. The GPS says you’ll be there in an hour. The GPS said you’d be there in an hour, an hour ago. You hope your betta fish will be okay. He’s been in his travel container for what feels like too long.
When you arrive, there’s a group of volunteers helping people like you move in. A team of three grabs up all of your stuff. You carry your fish and your newly acquired keys. The volunteer who signs you in warns you to keep track of your keys, that They can beep into the dorms and will raid your room for shiny stuff. You ask what she means. She shakes her head and calls you a freshie. You don’t ask again.
The three who help you take your stuff to your room give you advice. The girl tells you to stay away from the library and the dining hall at 3am. The boy tells you not to make deals at the point where two crosswalks create a crossroads in front of the Briggs building.
The person of indeterminate gender asks you what your major is, and when you tell them you’re thinking about creative writing, they tell you to be extremely careful and to never accept food from strangers under any circumstances and to be careful in even the dining hall and that if you can’t be absolutely sure that whoever is giving you food is human and to politely reject it otherwise and also don’t let the Fair Folk critique your stories because they’ll consider that a favor and you don’t want to owe them a favor and-
The girl hisses at them to shut up, that they’re scaring you. She’s not wrong. You want to hear more, though, so the person of indeterminate gender who tells you to call them Jules. You have a feeling that Jules isn’t their birth name. You tell them to call you by the nickname your friend gave you. They grin at you and say you’re already learning.
The trio leaves you in your room, alone. Your roommate isn’t here yet. You take the side of the room with the comfy chair, but leave them the good wardrobe. You feel like that’s a fair trade. It doesn’t take you long to unpack, and by the time your roommate shows up, all you’re doing is putting up your last poster (a Captain America “propaganda” poster).
She gives your poster a disgusted look. You say hello. She says hello back. She doesn’t thank the volunteers when they leave. She sets up her side of the room quickly, and complains about her wardrobe being slightly tilted. You point out that yours doesn’t close all the way. She scoffs, but quits complaining.
You never really get to like your roommate. She’s out all the time, she joins a sorority, and when she is in the room, her boyfriend is with her. Having him in the room makes you itch. He’s a nice guy, but something about him makes you dislike him instantly.
You stay polite, but when she vanishes, you aren’t really concerned. She’s often gone for a night or two. It’s only on the third night that you think you should probably report that she’s gone.
You knock on the RA’s door before your first class. She’s half asleep and tells you she’ll look into it, but that if your roommate shows up on her own to tell her. Oh and, she adds, if she comes back weird, be careful, Freshie.
Your roommate never comes back. Your RA shows up at your door after two weeks with a teary-eyed middle aged couple to pack her stuff up. You leave for the library with a thin excuse. You try to avoid the library, but it’s a good place to go when it’s nine at night and nothing is open except the student union. You already ate tonight, and going to the student union always makes you hungry, even when you’ve just eaten. The library is safer on your wallet.
You linger for an hour and a half. Half of your homework is done, including that essay you were sure would take you days to finish. You think you might come to the library more often after this.
When you return to your dorm, you pass by your RA’s open door. She said to leave the half of the room that isn’t yours empty, that you’d be getting a new roommate soon. You agree easily. You hope this next roommate is nicer than the last one. One of your classmates, who only goes by Elly, says that her roommate was replaced by something that looked just like them, but acted wrong. A junior hushed her, but it was enough to leave you thankful that your roommate had just vanished.
The next morning, you give one of the campus crows a slice of ham from your sandwich. It bows its head in thanks. It flies away after that. You decide to keep feeding the crows. You’ve always been superstitious, and it’s always good to have crows on your side, right? Your best friend’s sister’s girlfriend even said to feed the crows. Even if it’s just mumbo-jumbo, it can’t hurt, right?
You feed the crows. You go to class. You eat dinner in the dining hall, and only take food that’s being served by the workers who are clearly human. You don’t look at the shadowy figures when you go to your night class. You don’t speak to the cloaked figures you see at all times of the day, but you nod politely in passing. You never say thank you, or I’m sorry. You follow the rules, and when time comes that someone who doesn’t look quite right stops you at the crossed sidewalk in front of the O’Brien building, you carefully only offer a handful of candy in exchange for the study guide the stranger offers you. They happily accept the candy, and you happily go over your new guide.
You like Elsewhere University. Your classes are going great, you have a few friends, and you’re starting to understand what’s going on around campus.
Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour. Pairing: Yoongi | Reader Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU Word Count: 7,692 Author’s Note: Now, I don’t want to give away too much of this chapter right off the bat, but I’m giving this chapter an ‘M’ rating for a reason.
A lot of things have changed in the past 2 years—you are the last person who would ever try to deny that.
For instance, you don’t know if Yoongi still likes caramel macchiato with his two shots of espresso, or if he still reaches out to cling for the nearest source of warmth while remaining on the brink of unconsciousness, or even if music is still the most important thing in his life. You don’t know if he can still record the lyrics floating around in his mind as easily as gathering strings of cotton candy, or if he hides his emotions underneath miles and miles of apathy. There’s a lot of things you no longer know about Yoongi. You’ve changed a lot in 2 years and it would be foolish and naive to assume that Yoongi had not.
But there’s one thing you know has not changed over the course of that time, and that was how naturally you could fold yourself into Yoongi’s touch, how his lips could still light all the nerves underneath your skin like fire, sparking you into life, and how readily you could feel yourself responding to him.
When Yoongi dives back into for another kiss, one that contains just as much passion, anger, remorse, and desperation as the first one, you can’t deny on returning the gesture with equal frenzy. He still does good in making your mind spin like a top, your sense of gravity severely distorted as you feel like you might topple over if you don’t grip onto the closest thing that just so happens to be the fabric of Yoongi’s t-shirt. The material is soft in between your fingers, clenching it to pull him closer and he doesn’t protest. The kiss is hard, teeth and tongue and shallow breathing as Yoongi grips the edges of the makeup counter behind you as a means to cage you in and keep himself grounded.
BTS’s reaction to you playing their song on the piano:
A/N: Here you are, sweetie ❤️ I really hope you enjoy it! Hopefully it’s as filled full of feels as you wanted~
Jin: Jin pricks his ears, and listens to the melodious chords fluttering to his ears. You haven’t played the piano in a while. It’s good to finally hear the dusty old instrument in use. He heads towards the sound, before a bout of realisation has him stopping at the door,
where just inside he can see your curved figure leaning over the keys, sweeping the music along with your fingers. He knows this tune. It’s his tune - ‘Awake’.
And without any warning - no cracking or breaking, just out of the blue, like thunder in June - tears well up in his eyes, and shimmer to the brink of spilling
over. Of all the songs you could have picked, you picked the one he needs to hear. He can still
remember the emotions that tumbled through him when he first sang this song: the desperation he felt to keep up with his six brothers, the terror he recoiled from, a fear of falling behind. Yet, here he is, years later, still trembling and afraid, but trying
hard to mask it – reduced to tears behind the living room door. Except… no. Things have changed. Back then, he didn’t have you – you, who keep his chin up, and his eyes fixed firmly on the clouds. You, who believe without
an inkling of a doubt that he can go further, stretch farther, and climb
higher than he ever realised. You, who everyday whisper to him, ‘Kim
Seokjin, how luck am I to have you?’ Really, he should be the one asking you. After all, if it weren’t for you, he’d still be on the ground,
tear-dampened gaze filtering to fickle mist-clouds he could never reach. Now,
here he is, flying – soaring – because of you. Up past blue and into the star
sprinkled black of space.
The tears are falling now, but they feel good – warm and
wet like a spring shower. It’s been a while since he cried - properly, like this. He opens the door, and you turn in your seat to
face him, and when he holds out his arms, you run to him, and burrow into his heat. While you rest your head in the
crook between his shoulder and his neck, he sings the rest of the tune in
low tones. “Maybe I can’t touch the sky, but I’ll stretch my arm.”
Yoongi: It has been a tough day for Min Yoongi. He’s been sat in the
studio all afternoon, all evening, and well into the night, fiddling on his laptop, trying to
get the latest track just right. When he closes his eyes,
he can still see the square of light from his screen, burned in blue onto his
retina. He arrives back at his house, completely drained of energy, only to be
greeted by a gentle wave of music when he opens the door. And despite all the muscles in his face being past their stretching
point, they still manage to push up into a smile when he hears you tinkling away
on the piano, playing a song he produced (of course, nothing else would do for
you), playing something he hasn’t heard in a while - ‘Tomorrow’.
You stop playing when you hear him enter the room,
peeking over your shoulder at his tired face.
“Please continue,” he rasps.
Your brows tip up in concern, sensing how tired he is, but
you return to your music without pressing him with a ‘how was your day?’. In a few steps he’s sitting down on your right-hand
side, and his fingers fitting into the groves of the worn ivory keys, he
unfolds a gentle harmony in the treble cleft.
You continue on, the both of you enraptured in the music,
until Yoongi’s playing fades away, and as you turn to him, wondering why he’s
stopped, his head lolls onto your shoulder. Smiling, you brush a few stray wisps
of hair away from his face. “Tired?”
He nods into your shoulder, eyes closing as you pick up the
tune again, slower and more lullaby-like.
“Rest all you want,” you tell him, “I’m not letting you go
back to work, until I know you’ve fully recovered.” Then, as he slowly slips into sleep, you whisper the lyrics from ‘Tomorrow’ he needs to hear most: “Wherever you are right now, you’re just taking a break. Don’t give up… Don’t get too far away, tomorrow.”
Hoseok: Outside, the wind whisks up a torrent of leaves, clattering in shades
of frozen amber against your window, but inside, cut off from the cold autumn
storm, it glows with warmth, drenched in the heat of love and affection – mainly Hoseok’s love
and affection, directed at you. As you sit at the piano, running through a soft
re-imagining of ‘Autumn Leaves’, he watches in appreciation, head resting in his
hands, breath snatched away at the way your fingers ghost across the keys, eyes half-closed, drowned in the melody.
As the final chords hang in the air, Hoseok rouses himself from the trance you have placed him in and begins clapping in
appreciation – the sole audience member in this private concert. “Wow! Y/N, just… wow! That was… wow….” He tries to search
for a word to aptly describe the feelings you have stirred in him, but nothing
surfaces, so instead, he crosses the distance between you, and expresses himself with a gentle hand on your cheek and a breathy kiss that presses warmth into your lips.
When he pulls away, your fingers reach out, wanting him
back – and, smiling, he obliges, balancing on the edge of the piano stool so he
can be that extra bit closer to you.
With the first pitter-patters of rain starting up outside, Hoseok starts up another kind of storm with you –
flurries of kisses dropping down onto your skin. As the leaves fall, you fall in love.
Namjoon: Sometimes, Namjoon really doesn’t like himself. When it’s
late in the evening, and the light’s fading, he really doesn’t like himself. When he’s wasted away the day, erasing work, rather than progressing, he really doesn’t like himself. When he can’t
force a smile without cracking, he really doesn’t
But, at least he’s coming home to you. And he knows that, despite all
the negativity that’s oozing through him like sewage water, you love him. Even in moments of doubt, like right now, when he arrives home,
faded, and ghostly, and wondering if he’s likeable, he hears you wandering
through chords on the piano, and he knows that you know. Because he recognises the song – ‘Reflection’. It’s your reminder that it’s okay – all of
He leans back against the door as the familiar notes hit him
– spine pressing to the wood and head tilting back till he’s gazing up at the
grey ceiling. There may be no words, but each jump of your fingers across
the black and ivory keys speaks to him. He hears. He understands.
After a few moments, after a few deep breaths,
he feels himself – his real self – float back into his body, and he’s ready to
greet you. He steps forward, into the light of the music room, where you shift
to glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. The music keeps on spinning
out. He smiles at you, and you smile back, and that’s all it takes for Namjoon
to like himself like you love him.
Jimin: “Forever we are young, amidst the scattering rain of flower
petals I run, wandering through this maze.” Jimin can’t help but sing the last
few lines of the familiar song while you rest upon the final chords on the piano.
Turning to him, eyes shining bright, you say, “Your singing still sounds
as beautiful as it did when you first sang this song.”
Jimin heaves out a
sigh. “That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” His mind flickers back to those
days, an eternity ago (try a few years, but they feel infinite), when you didn’t exist in his life. So many things have
changed since then. He’s changed since then.
Sensing a shift in his mood, you reach out your hands to him, hoping for a hold on his uncertain frame, quivering on the edge of being lost to remembering. In answer to your silent plea, he
steps closer and winds his arms around your shoulders. You ground him back in reality with your head resting on his chest.
“It wasn’t so long ago…” you murmur.
“Sure feels like it though.” Stifling thoughts begin
clinging onto Jimin, realisations of how far on his life has progressed, how
much closer he is to stepping off the cusp of youth… realisations that the
lyrics of the song you played can’t be true. He won’t be young forever, and neither will
you. It terrifies him.
You stretch your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re still young,” you assure him, “And even when we grow
old, and get grey-haired and wrinkly, we’ll stay young – on the inside at
least. All I need is you by my side, and I feel like I could stay vibrant and
strong for the rest of my life.”
How is it that you always know what to say? Jimin swallows down his foul-tasting fears and kisses the
top of your head. “Young forever, you and me.”
Taehyung: As you drift through the dream-enhancing chords, sat over the
piano, Taehyung stands on the other side of the door, enraptured and enwrapped by
your playing. When the final notes peel away into a calm quiet, he opens the door to be greeted by your smile.
“Just One Day?” Taehyung asks, although he doesn’t need an
answer from you – he recognises the melody like he recognises the freckles
on your face.
“Did you like my arrangement of it?”
“Like it?” Taehyung flops down onto the nearby sofa, and
motions for you to join him, “Like it? I adored it.”
“I adore you,” you counter, abandoning the piano stool
to find a comfier spot with Taehyung, perched above him, legs straddling his
waist. Your hair falls down around your shoulders and, as you lean towards
Taehyung, it cuts off the rest of the world, encasing the two of you in your own existence.
Taehyung’s hands reach up to cup your face, and when you close your eyes to his touch, he stretches up to kiss your eyelids. In parting
his lips from your skin, he murmurs, “I never really understood the lyrics of
that song until I met you.”
“What? ‘Just One Day’?”
He nods, bumping his nose against yours in the process. “I
never understood the desperate need to be with someone, even if it was only for one day. But then I saw you, and suddenly it made sense. I got the feeling that
even if I could only be with you for one day, one hour, even one second, that would be enough for me. It’s like my purpose is to be with you.”
You felt the sting of tears as they jumped up behind
your lids, but you refused to let them fall. “I suppose it’s a good thing we
have more than one day then.”
Jungkook: Poised on your doorstep,Jungkook takes a deep breath and steps forward to knock.
The last time he saw you, you had been in floods of tears,
both of you shouting things you didn’t mean. Now he’s outside, wanting to
apologise, to go back to how it used to be. But he’s scared. He’s terrified.
And he can’t bring himself to make a move.
That is until he hears the strains of a piano playing,
wafting through an open window. Those chords are familiar – ‘Love is not over’.
On recognising the song, he slowly breaks down – like a lump of sugar dissolving
in coffee, one second he’s solid and the next he’s disappearing, forgetting
himself and slipping over into tears. He can’t bear to be apart from you any longer, and judging
by your playing, neither can you. Not caring how much of a mess his face is,
puffy and red, striped with tear-tracks, he knocks. And after a few seconds you
answer. Your face is a mirror of his, just as cracked, just as damp.
“I’m sorry…” is all you can say before he pulls you into a
tight hug that squeezes all the air out of you, and he’s murmuring in your ear,
“Me too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Just like that it’s okay again. With the two
of you, things can never truly be finished – you can never truly be done with each other.
Love will never be over, and so long as you’re breathing, you’ll be together.
But listen.. After Meruem passes, Komugi joined him soon after, and he waited for her. But since they are dead she is no longer blind because it was a human trial and the first thing she ever sees is Meruems little face right in hers.
Sirius Black walked nervously up and down as he watched the events unfold in Hogwarts. The place he knew like the back of his hand, the place where he had the best time of his life with the people he cared about the most. It was crumbling down, every wall that he had once touched, every statue he hid behind, it was all falling apart right in front of his eyes and he hated that he was useless once more.
Fred Weasley had recently joined them, Sirius watched as this kid watched his family with worried eyes that reminded him so much of Fabian and Gideon. Sirius had watched the brothers comfort the red haired boy who cried breathlessly as he watched his older brother run after his killer. All the things that poor boy must be feeling were nothing compared to what James and Lily were feeling. They knew how this would end, they knew Harry would join them soon. Lily watched with worried eyes as James took his glasses off every two minutes to rub his forehead, like he had a headache he couldn’t get rid of.
Sirius heard James yell “No” as he fell on his knees and thought that maybe it was the time, maybe his godson was joining them. He didn’t dare turn around, he couldn’t bear seeing him here, not Harry. He closed his eyes and kept them shut, not so fast, this shouldn’t have happened so fast.
I must be dreaming.
“Sirius, open your eyes”
So Sirius did and wished he hadn’t.
“No” yelled Sirius as he turned away from the tall man standing in front of him, with two visible scars on his face and tired eyes. “This is not happening. Lily please tell me this is not happening” shouted Sirius as tears were streaming down his face.
“Please Lils” he begged, barely whispering. Sirius looked James with pleading eyes to tell him that the man stood in front of him a second ago was not Remus, was not his Moony. James’ tear stained face was all the answer he needed but didn’t want.
“Sirius,” began Remus, Lily was staring behind Sirius with tear filled eyes, so it was really him.
“James you should keep watching Harry. I– I got Remus” assured Sirius. James looked torn between Remus and Harry but Sirius knew Harry had to come first. Remus would understand that.
“Hello Professor Lupin” said Fred slowly, Remus flinched at that mention.
“I didn’t– I didn’t know you–”
“The good die young Professor, I hope it won’t be in vain” replied Fred with hope in his voice. Sirius took in Remus completely, the way his amber eyes watered as he smiled to the Weasley kid, the way his head tilted to the side when he felt hopeless. The way he had grown old without him despite all the promises they had made each other.
Sirius slowly walked away from the ever growing crowd around James and Lily, he stopped when he was sure no one could hear them.
“Who was it?” demanded Sirius before Remus could open his mouth.
“Lestrange” replied Remus like he expected Sirius to ask the question. Remus looked around troubled. “Where am I? Purgatory?”
“Well kind of, you don’t move on unless you want to. Afterlife is a better explanation” said Sirius, his eyes hanging on every new scar on Remus’ visible skin. He was sure there were plenty more he couldn’t see.
“So you are- you are all real? You are real? I’m not in heaven and imagining everything around because I’m d-dead?”
Sirius slowly nodded in response. Remus slowly raised his hand to touch Sirius but he searched for Sirius’ permission to do so. Sirius leaned his head down to let his hand touch like a dog would to his owner. As soon as Sirius felt the warmth of Remus on his skin, he felt all his troubles melt away.
Remus slowly pulled Sirius in a tight hug as he pressed the shorter man’s head on his chest, his long fingers tangled in Sirius’ long silky hair.
“I thought I had lost you forever” whispered Remus in Sirius’ black hair. He still smelled like chocolate, Sirius inhaled the familiar scent and felt like he was back in Grimmauld Place, 12, two years ago. Intertwined in his bed, the chocolate scent in the corridors of the place he hated so much and Sirius didn’t think he would feel Remus’ rough skin on his soft one anytime soon. Sirius didn’t know what to feel, he had Moony back but he wanted him to live longer than this, he deserved to live longer than this, he deserved happiness.
Remus broke the silence slowly.
“I have to ask you something but I don’t know how to–”
“I am not angry or disappointed in you because you chose happiness Moons. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy,” interrupted before Remus could finish his sentence. Remus cleared his throat to hid the tears pooling in his eyes. “Am I a little jealous of Dora? Yes, but if you were happy, that’s all I ever need,” continued Sirius and he saw Remus smile slightly.
“I missed you with every little piece of my being, I felt numb for days after you were gone and I–” stuttered Remus. “All I wanted was you and I was tired, you know? Everything I ever loved was taken from me and you were the last blow. The thing I loved the most–” Sirius stared at the werewolf in awe, Remus’ amber eyes stared into Sirius’ grey ones with so much love Sirius felt himself drown in it. “What I am trying to say is I have never given up on you Sirius.”
Sirius for once in his life was lost for words. He somehow knew that Remus would never completely forget him but to hear him say it so clearly was so different.
“And I loved her, Tonks I mean, I still do. She is an incredible person and an even better friend. She took care of me and she loved me almost as much as you did and I needed her, I needed to feel that,” babbled Remus, he almost sounded guilty because he wanted happiness. “Then Teddy came, he is so perfect, I wish you met him. Just because I loved Tonks does not mean that I was ever over you, Pads.”
Sirius just stared at him, his eyes fixated on Remus’ lips, taking in every little word that fell from them. Then he slowly reached for Remus’ hand kissed each wounded knuckle.
At that moment, they didn’t need words or anything else for that matter. Just one look and everything unspoken was out in the open. Remus slowly wiped away the tear from Sirius’ cheek. Sirius realised he started crying way too often but it felt good, to hear those words. Remus turned around to stare at the crowd behind him.
“So, what are James and Lily doing?”
“They are watching Harry and the others, you can watch people from here. So if you want to you can watch Tonks and Teddy,” said Sirius smiling and Tonks appeared in front of them fighting for her life, duelling two Death Eaters at the same time.
“She should have stayed home” said Remus as he watched Tonks desperately.
“Well, Blacks aren’t that good at listening and sitting still Remus, you should have learned it by now” admitted Sirius guiltily, he only listened to Remus and no one else.
Sirius saw the jet of green light flying towards his cousin and saw Remus turn as white as a ghost. Sirius barely heard him say “Please, no” as he searched for Sirius to stay standing. The only thing Sirius could think about was what Fred Weasley said as he accepted his fate, the good die young.
(I don’t even remember how the subject came up but @beatlemaniacinthetardis and I were taking about the Amis getting together at someone’s house and telling each other stories from when they came out of the closet. We stayed up way too late last night coming up with these so we felt the need to share)
Bahorel comes out to his family when he goes downstairs in the rainbowest of rainbow shirts, announces that he’s going to Pride, and just sort of stares at each of them until they understand.
Courfeyrac realizes he’s gay in his preteen years and it takes him like a year to work up the courage to come out to his friends (Enjolras and Combeferre) and family (mom and dad). When he tells them they all just go “sweetie, we know”. Enjolras and Combeferre bake him a confetti cake that says CONGRATS in edible glitter. Courfeyrac cries.
Feuilly doesn’t really have anyone to come out to, since he has no living relations and he went straight into a job at a young age. He kind of…forgets to, to be honest, so he’s not out to his co-workers. They only find out when Bahorel comes to get him from work one day and he kisses Feuilly hello.
Like in canon, Cosette grows up into a pretty girl who loves attention. She’s very meticulous about the way she looks and is like nice when she notices guys checking her out. One day, though, a pretty girl smiles at her and does the checking-out thing and Cosette is like oh no when she feels her heart do the THING. She tells papa later that evening, and he’s amazing and supportive because, well, he’s Jean Valjean. He joins her marching in the Pride parade the following summer.
Enjolras’ coming out doesn’t go so well. He’s pretty much known he likes boys since forever ago, but only tells his parents at the end of high school. His parents are cold and arrange a Nice Girl for him to marry at the age of 25 or whatever. Enjolras fights with them on it, but when they continue to stand firm he decides they don’t deserve to be in his life anyway. He moves in with Combeferre, who he came out to years ago.
Joly and Bossuet, who have basically known each other since birth, come out to each other before anyone else. They then make a pact to come out to their friends and family on the same day. Bossuet’s parents don’t take it so well–his dad is pissed, and his mom tries to push him to go back to church. His friends, too, say “yeah that’s cool” but he can tell every time he says something that even approaches the subject of his sexuality that they’re weird about it. Joly’s, on the other hand, went well. His friends start teasing him like “yeah man I bet you thought you had appendicitis the first time you saw a guy you liked” and stuff, but they’re cool with it. Joly’s family ends up pretty much adopting Bossuet, too. Bossuet’s parents come knocking for him one day and Joly’s four younger siblings work together to slam the door in their face. (Bonus: since those two have a hivemind, they tell each other about being poly the same day.)
The subject of their combined affections, Musichetta, was a total badass about her coming out. She told her parents straight up that she was poly/pan. They were not sold on the idea, but she told them to accept her as she was or she’d leave without a second thought. It takes them a while to get used to the idea, but Chetta answers whatever questions they have. They grow to understand her, and come to love Joly and Bossuet once the three of them start dating.
Jehan has a hard time with it all. They WANT to come out, to family and friends alike, but they want to understand themselves before they try and explain it to anyone else. They tell this to the Amis who are all just like…you don’t have to ever figure it out. It’s alright. No matter who you are or what you do or who you love, we’ll be here to support you. Jehan cries really hard because they’ve been so confused for so long and their found family is saying that it’s okay to be unsure forever because who needs a title anyway? The greatest of group hugs happens that day, Jehan smiling in the centre of it. (Bonus: shortly after that, Jehan asks the Amis to start saying “they/them”. Grantaire buys a ton of neutral-looking clothes with gross flower print that he knows Jehan will LOVE. Enjolras falls in love with R a lil bit more since he knows he doesn’t have all that much money but he spent a bunch of it for Jehan to be happy and comfortable anyway).
Combeferre comes out to all his friends shortly after he meets them, but he never comes out to his family at all. He knows they’re homophobic, and a) he doesn’t like to start fights, and b) he decides that they don’t deserve to know. In an act of silent rebellion, he secretly gets a part-time job as a sales guy at a boot shop for drag queens. Courfeyrac’s the shop’s #1 customer. (Kinky Boots AU someone back me up here)
While Marius is almost entirely on the straight side, but every so often he’ll meet a man who sets his little Pontmercy heart aflutter. Courf is one of those guys and when they end up roommates Marius kind of…”aksdjasgkdhdh Lord save my poor bisexual soul”. But then he meets Cosette. He doesn’t tell her for ages because he’s terrified of what she’ll think, but eventually he works up the courage. She laughs because hey she’s bi too!! From that point on, they point out attractive people of various genders to each other while they’re on dates. (Bonus: one day, Marius and his grandfather get into an argument about politics over dinner. In a moment of passion, Marius stands and yells “LONG LIVE NAPOLEON! ALSO, I SOMETIMES LIKE BOYS!” His grandfather faints into his chair.)
Eponine never really had friends, so she has no frame of reference for what romantic attraction feels like. When she meets Marius, she figures instantly that what she’s feeling is romantic love. Shortly after, she meets Cosette and feels the same way. Now she’s confused. And then she meets the rest of the Amis and feels the same way about ALL of them. It’s very strange to have a crush on everyone, she thinks. With Grantaire and Jehan’s help, she comes to understand that what she’s feeling is, in fact, platonic love. And god, is she relieved to know. The only family members she tells about being aro/ace are Gavroche and Azelma. Azelma is like “I think that might be me too” and Gav is like “sweet, more lovely ladies for me”.
FINALLY, Grantaire. He’s never really given a shit about what gender his lovers were, and never given a shit about who knows about it. He doesn’t know or care whether or not his parents know. But oh, god, then he meets Enjolras, and can no longer imagine loving anyone else of any gender. When the Amis share their coming out stories, he just snorts and says ‘does it count if you’re only attracted to one person?’ and he accidentally stares at Enj as he says it and the Amis collectively suck in a breath because if they didn’t know who he was talking about before, they certainly do now. (Bonus: Everyone braces themselves when Enj stands up and goes to R, thinking Enj is going to try and start shit, but they start applauding when instead Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s face and kisses the life out of him).
I always find it amusing when they start “dating” someone during promo time. They want us to believe that they had all these months of just chilling and doing nothing and didn’t bother to date once, but the second they get busy and are flying all over the place, that is when they suddenly feel the need to date someone. Yeah, right. They just make everything so obvious. I mean he literally said that he hadn’t dated in forever like a month ago in the first promo interview, and then boom “Harry has a girlfriend.” two seconds later as he promotes the album the rest of the time.